Corners
by whyyesitscar
Summary: "Ever since she was little, Emily had always loved corners." AU, sort of future fic, one-shot. Give it a chance? Probably more interesting than this summary makes it out to be.


**A/N: So, this materialized out of something I wrote about Naomily (we'll call it a meditation because that sounds sophisticated) that analyzed their characters and their relationship. I posted it on Twitter and people read it and warriormari said, "Dude, Car, you should write a fanfic about this." And I said, "No way, that would just be way too nerdy and weird." And then two days later, here I am cursing her because I've been unconsciously writing this in my head ever since. So basically it's not my fault if this is total shit. If you're interested in reading the "meditation," go here: ****bit [dot] ly [forward slash] fzWH6S. Obviously remove any extraneous words and brackets. Be warned; it's four pages of strange metaphors and me basically talking to myself.  
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**Enjoy.

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_I see drawings and pictures in the poorest of huts and the dirtiest of corners.  
-Vincent Van Gogh_

i.

Ever since she was little, Emily had always loved corners. They were comfortable nooks, little safe havens that she could squish into when the rest of the world decided to ostracize her. Whenever Emily had a bad day, she would squeeze her shoulder into the crease between the walls and wriggle around until it didn't feel uncomfortable anymore.

When Emily was eleven, she noticed that boys weren't as interesting to her as they were to Katie. There was no grace to them, nothing deeper that made her intrigued.

When Emily was eleven, she retreated to her corner. It was the best vantage point for watching girls, and when she did, she saw that they were beautiful.

ii.

She was in a corner the first time Emily saw her. Hunched against the wall, she was boxed in by the massive crowd. She had a drink in her hand and she sipped it calculatedly; Emily could tell she was pacing each sip so that she would never run out of something to do. She wanted to appear busy because then she could forget that she was standing alone.

Emily watched her lean her head back; her peroxide blonde hair fell below her shoulders. Emily could see it peeking out from the space between her arm and her torso. By the way she shook her cup after she lowered her hand, Emily could tell the girl had finished her drink. Emily smirked to herself and snagged a free bottle of vodka.

She wormed her way over to the girl and rattled the bottle invitingly. The corner was dark and gloomy, but the girl's smile shone like a supernova. Supernovas have the ability to outshine a galaxy; this girl's grin was brighter than the entire universe.

"Need a refresher?"

The girl lifted her cup slightly. "Yeah, thanks."

Emily refreshed the girl's drink. "I'm Emily," she said, not taking her eyes off of the mesmerizing blonde.

Her corner companion took a drink and winced. "Naomi," she offered. "Quite a party," she sneered.

Emily laughed. "Not really my scene either, but my sister dragged me here."

"Katie, right? I know her."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Everybody knows Katie. Let me be the one to apologize for anything she's ever said or done…or will ever say or do, for that matter."

Naomi gave a curt nod. "Duly noted." She took a bigger swig of her drink. "You I don't know," she said, pointing her finger.

Emily smiled. "So get to know me."

"I don't usually make it a habit to know people."

"Alright, then. Can I get to know you?"

Naomi smirked. "I suppose. Let's go somewhere else, though. Get away from all these people."

Emily leaned against the wall next to Naomi, pushing her slightly aside to get her share of the corner.

"No. I like it here."

iii.

It didn't take long to get to know Naomi. Emily knew that when Naomi sat on couches, she curled into the space where the arm of the sofa met the back cushions.

It was enough.

iv.

"Here, I got you these." Naomi held out a package; it was poorly wrapped and lumpy, and Emily couldn't help but be charmed by it.

"It's not my birthday," Emily said absently. It was the only thing she could get out past the giant smile that stretched her cheeks to their breaking point.

Naomi shifted her bag on her shoulders. "Yeah, but you need them. Open it."

Emily snaked her finger under the tape and flipped it away from the paper with a crackle. She peeled back the pale blue wrapping, letting it drop on the floor as she stared at her gift. It was a giant pair of fluffy white earmuffs.

She pulled them apart and fixed Naomi with a quizzical look. "What…?"

Naomi smiled playfully. "Your ears get red when it's cold. Really red—they almost match your hair. Not that I'm complaining or anything…"

Emily melted. "Naomi…" She put the earmuffs on and pressed them tighter to the sides of her head. She wanted to feel as close to Naomi as she could, even if she had to do it piece by piece. "Thank you," she murmured. She pulled Naomi close for a kiss, preferring to let her lips thank Naomi with something other than words.

Naomi smiled; Emily's tongue brushed against her teeth. "You're really cute when you're cold," Naomi whispered, her voice low. She trailed her lips across Emily's jaw, stopping at her right ear with a soft nibble. "But you know I like you better when you're hot."

v.

When Emily was twenty three, she left her corner to spend time with someone who reminded her that the world was also full of circles.

vi.

"You look like a painting."

She was rewarded with a slight shove to the shoulder. "Stop it," Naomi blushed. Emily loved seeing this part of Naomi. To everyone else, she was hard and unfeeling, maybe even a little hostile. But around Emily, when they were snuggled in bed like now, away from the rest of the world, Naomi was soft and vulnerable.

"I mean it," Emily continued. "You're beautiful."

"You're beautiful," Naomi retorted.

It was Emily's turn to blush. Sometimes Naomi was sweet enough to strip Emily of her words, so instead she kissed a particularly sensitive spot on Naomi's neck and pressed herself closer to Naomi, resting her head on the blonde's shoulder.

"Come to dinner with me," she murmured.

"Hmm, okay. What do you feel like tonight—Thai? Italian? I could cook something for you if you want a night in."

Emily smiled. "No, my dad has a company dinner right around this time of the year. Come with me."

"You mean meet your parents?" There was a reluctant tone to Naomi's voice; her grip around Emily had loosened slightly.

"Well, my mum won't be there as she's got some wedding planners conference or something. You'll like my dad, though. He can be a little forward sometimes, but he means well. And besides, you already know Katie. She likes you."

Naomi scoffed. "The last time I saw Katie she told me my pants looked like polyester vomit and threatened to forcibly remove them, throw them in a pile with the rest of my clothes, and burn them in a bonfire."

"Right, like I said, she likes you. If she didn't, she would have burned them while they were still on your legs."

"I think you need to educate Katie on the proper way to show one's affection."

Emily chuckled. "Says the girl whose version of a hug is a smirk and a sarcastic eye-roll."

"That's because normal hugs are boring, and _I_ am anything but boring."

"Does that mean you're not going to come?"

Naomi kissed the top of Emily's head. "I'll make the next one. Give me a little more time to make myself presentable for the Fitch family."

Emily turned her eyes up toward Naomi's face. She was looking down expectantly at the redhead. "You promise?" she asked.

Naomi smiled and another supernova erupted. "I promise."

vii.

The only drawback about corners was that they weren't really made for two people, and circles drove you crazy because you could never tell where they stopped.

viii.

Emily grappled with the clasp of her necklace with shaking fingers; she had half a mind to throw it on the floor and accidentally run it over with the vacuum or something less subtle—like a sledgehammer.

"I can't believe you, Naomi. This was supposed to be our night—just us."

"Look, I can't help who I run into, Ems. What was I supposed to do, blow him off?"

"Yes!" Emily yelled. "You have dinner with Cook any time you want. We're special." She turned around gruffly. "Unzip me, will you? I can't reach."

Naomi huffed. "That's because you have the arms of a toddler." She roughly yanked Emily's zipper down, adding a quiet apology as an afterthought. "You can't just expect me to ignore our friends, Emily."

"No, and I don't. But you do this every time I have something special planned—you have to work late, or you run into a colleague, or you have some other excuse. Are you ashamed of me? Is that it?"

Naomi ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "No, I'm not ashamed of you, Ems. I just…I just need…you can't expect me to be less than I am."

Emily sighed in defeat. "I'd never ask that of you, Naomi. But that's not who you are. You're better than that."

Naomi bristled; a hard glint appeared in her eyes. "You don't know that. You don't know me."

"Don't say that, Naomi, of course I do. You've just got to trust me once in a while." She bridged the gap between them and rested her hands on Naomi's shoulders. "What are you so afraid of?"

Naomi's shoulders sagged. "Don't ask me that," she murmured.

"Fine," Emily said, throwing up her hands. "Then let me ask you this: what do you want? Because I don't know how much more I can give."

"I want you," Naomi said quietly.

"You don't act like it," Emily countered.

"I love you," Naomi whimpered, plaintive.

"So talk to my parents. Show me off; introduce me to your coworkers. Do something to let me know that you're proud of me."

Naomi's silence was the loudest answer she could have given.

Emily gave Naomi a chaste kiss on the cheek. "You can't have it both ways, Naoms."

"I don't want it both ways," Naomi protested. "I want it my way."

"Yes, well, so do I. One of us is going to have to be disappointed."

Naomi stood up straighter and took a deep breath. "Fine, then. Let me make this easy: I think you should go."

Tears sprang to Emily's eyes. "So, that's it. You're not even going to try."

"I can't change for you, Emily."

"I'm not asking you to change. I'm simply asking you to be."

Naomi swatted at her eyes and sniffled loudly. "Then I guess I just can't be who you want."

ix.

The one thing that people forget about supernovas is that they're only temporary; like any other bright phenomenon, they eventually fade.

It was easier to ignore the fading if you were facing a wall, and Emily had a feeling she was long past overdue for a time-out.

x.

Emily hadn't ever really noticed buildings before, hadn't paid attention to the way they were constructed. Even when they were made of the sleekest marble, they were still harsh. There were no corners—just edges.

The coffee shop was bustling in the morning; businessmen and women trudged through the line, eager to start their days with a misleadingly optimistic energy boost. Emily stepped to the side and waited patiently for her coffee.

She watched as men in suits stormed briskly in and out of the store; women, in their dress skirts and pants, tapped away on their phones and barely glanced up. And then, suddenly, there was a leggy blonde three feet away from her clicking her tongue and scowling, like she always had, as she lamented the slow service. Emily considered getting the hell out of the café, but as she stood there and thought, she realized that she didn't want to hide. She wanted Naomi to know that she was still there. She wanted Naomi to see her.

"You know it's always crowded in here this time of day."

Naomi whipped her head to the right. A slight flush crept its way up her neck and spilled onto her cheeks. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, would you look at that?" Emily flicked her head in the direction of a blond-haired man holding hands with his boyfriend. "I think I bought the exact same scarf for my dad as the blond one's got. I should ask him where he got it."

"There must be a million other coffee shops in this city, Ems."

"And do you go to any of these million other coffee shops?"

Naomi creased her brow. "No."

Emily smirked. "You're holding up the line. See you around."

xi.

When Emily was twenty four, she learned that Naomi liked corners, too, only she liked them for their repressive tendencies. Naomi sat in corners to hide.

Emily sat in corners to see.

xii.

It was a rainy night. The wind rattled Emily's windows; thunder rolled and reverberated through her chest. A few feet away, somebody was banging on her door.

"You have to let me in, Emily." Naomi's voice was pleading and broken. "I have to tell you something."

Emily unlocked her door and cracked it open just a few inches. "It's really late, Naomi. Can't you come back in the morning?"

"I need to speak with you now," Naomi mumbled.

Emily opened the door all the way and watched as Naomi flew into her apartment. She was soaked to the bone and shivering; there was a wild glint in her eye that Emily was sure wasn't just from being stuck out in horrendous weather.

Naomi began pacing furiously around the room, creating little rivers wherever she stepped. "I had a dream last night, Ems. It started off as a really good dream; we were ridiculously happy, crazy in love, all of that. And then you dumped me. You actually went off and married someone else. I ended up in this bar on the top floor of a really rickety building, and I spent the night telling this random guy all about you, telling him how wonderful you were and how much I loved you. Then you texted me. You said "I'll always love you," and you signed it 'Emily Stanton'—your married name. I was staring at that text, not knowing what to say back, and the building started to fall. It was fucking collapsing under my feet, and all I could think of was how I was going to get the love of my life back."

Emily stared at Naomi unflinchingly. "So?"

"So I love you, and I don't care about anything else. I don't care what anyone thinks because I know how I feel, and how I feel is that you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I want to make us work, and if I have to do it your way, then I'm okay with that."

"You don't have to—"

"Fine, then we'll do it our way. We'll make up a better way. When we walk down the streets in winter, I'll hold your hand because it's the fastest way to warm me up when I'm cold. But I can't leave it like this. I can't stand the thought that you're not there in the morning to hold me when I wake up crying from the most terrible dream I've ever had. I can't stand not being with you. I love you. I love you, and I need you because my life is incomplete when you're not in it.

"And?"

Naomi stopped pacing and looked over at Emily. "What do you mean, 'and'? And I'll love you forever. End of."

"No, I mean, did the building fall down? You know, in your dream."

"Must have, because I never got you back."

xiii.

When Emily was twenty four, she found Naomi sulking in a corner. She was complaining about the walls—they were boring and lifeless, and they never changed.

So Emily grabbed Naomi by the shoulders, turned her around, and showed her the room.


End file.
